Ron Taylor: Raped cousin

“God, yes,” she panted,” that’s where I want you-in my pussy, fucking me, oh, Jesus, fucking me, fucking me, fucking me-”

“Ride me fast, kid,” he replied, grabbing her ass where it flashed up and down atop him. He lay back, willing to give Debbie the reins, and she took them like a pro. When she lifted, it was like a corkscrew, and when she came down it was like a tornado. She drove down onto Sam’s cock and she rode him ferociously, her quim sucking pleasure from him the way a child squeezes juice from a fresh lemon. Lemon? He felt big as a cucumber in her tight teenaged snatch, and she relished that tightness, rocking about, allowing it to spread to every inch of flesh inside her coozie hole.

I can never get off on my fingers again, Debbie thought sadly. Not now, when I know there’s something so much better, more satisfying. The boys back in Mentor never had any use for me, but they’re going to have to learn that I’m now a big part of their lives. Oh, God, she thought, trying to tabulate the list of boys at home she’d most enjoy fucking. There were a lot of them-boys she’d dreamed about now and then but had known she could never stand a chance with, hot when there were so many prettier girls around, girls who knew how to be friendly with boys, girls who knew how to carry themselves-girls like Holly and Lisa. No wonder she disliked them so much! They’d been-once-all that she had dreamed despairingly of being one day herself. And now it wasn’t a dream.

She was sexy, she was responsive, and thanks to Sam, she knew that she was beautiful and fuckable. The boys in Mentor would find that out soon enough. She hoped they were mature enough to take care of Debbie Marshall’s newfound needs and desires. God pity them if they weren’t!

I’m an eagle, she thought, flying high and proud. My cunt is full of cock, the way a real woman’s cunt ought to be, and I’m as real a woman as God ever breathed life into. Maybe I’ve been all along, but it just took this to show me. He’d raped her, thrust his cock into her virgin sheath and broken her cherry and spilled hymenal blood down her thighs, but she held him no grudge.

God, she was raping him now! She was riding him as if he were no more than a tool for her pleasure. And what a tool! It reamed her tender but willing young twat and she slithered wetly up and down, impaling herself on him more times than she could count or remember, each time feeling the deep penetrating thrust of his peter, going all the way to where she lived, reminding her what he had done to her, for her-oh, Jesus, for her!!

Just thinking about the day they’d spent together sent Debbie rocking dangerously near the edge of no return. “Oh my God I think I’m gonna come!!!“ she squealed, reeling from side to side, and Sam was still hanging onto her ass, pulling her down upon his dick as she moaned her way into a climax that blistered the walls of her slick slippery cooze.

“Let me… let me get it out of you… ” he panted from below, and he was so sweet, this escaped convict, this man-killer who had helped her blossom from a tender bud into a beautiful flower. Could those hands have actually taken someone’s life? When she got home she’d drive down to Kent State, look at the microfilm newspapers on file there. Maybe she could find a Colorado paper from about 1971 that told her what Sam had done, perhaps why he had done it. Oh, damnit to hell, she didn’t care! If he’d killed, that was his business. He wasn’t killing her now. He was loving her. Jesus! Loving her!! Fucking her!!

Making her scream!! Making her come… come…

Tomorrow she’d kiss him goodbye and they’d never meet again, but the brief encounter had been one she could never forget. A dozen years from now she’d remember every second she had spent with Sam in this cabin, in the meadow. The sun on their bodies. His mouth on hers. His tongue delving into her twat. His cock exploding in her mouth or on her quaking belly. The taste of Wild Turkey on his lips as he kissed her. Wood burning in a fireplace. Wild roses and daisies and honeysuckles. A golden eagle flying like a monarch through the Colorado sky.

He was pushing at her. “Come,” he moaned, “I have to come. Get off me, kid, off … ”

And then it was too late. His dick shot up inside her, burrowing deeply in her quim, and he was exploding, plastering the walls of her vagina with the liquid ooze of his cum, and for the very first time Debbie had a man squirting inside her.

“My Godddd!!!“ Her voice was a shrill scream that echoed off the walls of the cabin.

It was useless for him to struggle now. He’d already shot a pint of his cream into her, and more was gushing from the buried end of his dick. Sam grabbed her ass with a tight but loving grip and he thrust up, squirting himself dry inside Debbie. She settled down with each of his stabbing penetrations, and the shudder of his cock inside her made the orgasm go on for an eternity. Drained, weak, she sank upon him and her mouth found his. She wiggled her ass one or two times more, struggling to keep him hard and squirting inside her, but he’d ‘had a busy day and his cock began to soften. Mmmmmm, Debbie thought, screwing her tongue into his mouth, we’ve both had a busy day. I wonder if I did as much for him as he did for me.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” he said later.

“What?”

“You letting me come inside you. What if you get pregnant? Goddamn it, kid, a man has obligations-” She didn’t want to hear it. She kissed his mouth silent, then kissed it open again and their tongues dueled back and forth in a clever mimicry of the way his cock had dueled her snatch. But he couldn’t get it up again and, almost before Debbie knew it, she was kissing a man who breathed softly m his sleep. With a sigh she snuggled against him, closing her eyes.

When she awoke, the fire was burned down and she was alone under the blankets.

It was Sunday morning and Sam was gone, as he’d told her he would be. Debbie sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and found them almost immediately full of tears. She threw off the blankets, sighing, and went to her clothes. Pinned to the T-shirt he’d found for her was a note.

“Kid-Remember what I told you. And when you fly, fly for me, too. Okay, babe?

Sam.”

She folded the note, clutched it to her bare breasts. She’d treasure it for the rest of her life. And as long as she had that small token of him, that memory strong in her mind and heart, no one, nothing, could ever put her down again.

She was a woman, and she would be a woman.

It was little more than an hour later, she guessed, when she returned to Holly’s and Lisa’s campsite. God, she thought. Was I that close to them, all the time? It seemed as if I were on another planet. And maybe I was.

She came strolling into camp nonchalantly, feet kicking up stones as she walked. The buttonless denim shirt was slung over her shoulder, and she wore only her jeans and the T-shirt Sam had located. Beneath them? Nothing, nothing except her own awakened flesh. Her nipples were hard-they got hard every time she thought of the man she had spent yesterday with-and they poked insistent bumps into the clingy, tight fabric of the t-shirt she wore.

“Hello,” she called, and Holly and Lisa both jumped as if they’d been shot.

They were, she noticed, at opposite ends of the campsite. Lisa was down by the camper van, Holly at the tent, and they didn’t look at one another. She came closer and both of them started forward to meet her.

“Where in the goddamned mother fucking hell have you been???” Holly shrieked.

“You have been gone a whole mother fucking day!! Do you realize that, you stupid cunt?”

“Dumb bitch,” Lisa chimed in. She didn’t want to look at Holly. They’d said some awful things to one another last night and they hadn’t spoken all morning.